


Antivan Mint

by SaffronClover



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 01:25:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2131812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaffronClover/pseuds/SaffronClover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saffron has some news for returning Zevran...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Antivan Mint

            The dim room was quiet, all for the crackling of the fireplace and the occasional page being turned.

            Warden-Commander Saffron was propped up in bed, reading a book. Her knees were drawn up, letters of importance resting against them. Her grey eyes scanned the letters; yellow hand resting on one page while the other twirled her long ashen braid. She was naked underneath with the covers pulled up over her breasts, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of the warm fur against her skin.

                        The sun had set not too long ago, and the Commander had finally gone to rest. The past few months had been challenging for her with the new recruits and the absence of her husband. It had been four years since the Archdemon was killed and now Ferelden was in the process of healing. King Alistair had been vigilant in rebuilding the land affected by the Blight, and Saffron was doing her part to rebuild the Wardens.

It had been a struggle, but progress was being made. The Wardens of Ferelen had gained twenty new recruits in the last four years. Often enough the King would visit the keep, and with him a soldier or two would undertake the ritual. Many had died, but the ones who survived turned out to be incredibly beneficial. They even had two mages in their ranks. Three would have been their number, had Anders stayed. The man was a rolling stone, leaving and coming back at his own whim. The last time they had lost track of him, though rumor had it he was hiding out in Kirkwall. Nathaniel had wanted to go after him, but Saffron felt if Anders didn’t want to be with them she couldn’t force him; his track record with the Circle said as much.

Butterflies could be felt in her stomach, and she stopped reading to put her hand on the mound formed in her belly. “Don’t like feeling the letters there, do you?” She said to her still moving gut. Lately the Warden-Commander had been spending less and less time training recruits, and more time in her study. Had you asked anyone they’d say she might be coming close to her Calling. Months ago she had found herself sleeping every moment she could, and every smell made her nauseated. Food lost its appeal and many times Saffron was found throwing up.

The truth was she was pregnant.

By the Chantry Sister’s estimation she was six months along. Saffron hadn’t wanted anyone but her close confidants to know. When Alistair visited and heard the news, he nearly fell over in shock. Nathaniel, whom had become her second in command, just laughed. She kept it a secret for security reasons; with her in her condition she would be easy prey for any enemy’s nefarious plan. Of course you would have to be a lunatic to attack a keep full of Grey Wardens.

She also didn’t want anyone to know because she didn’t want word getting to Zevran, who was currently in Antiva attempting to shut down a plan to assassinate him. The first time this happened was right after their bonding ceremony, before they had even made it to the Keep. After the events of The Mother, she packed up and set off to find him. This time Zevran made her promise she wouldn’t follow, and it infuriated her. However, weeks after he left she found out she was with child, and that fact killed any hope she had of going after him.

Saffron placed her hand on her stomach and felt the baby kicking it. It was surreal feeling something so weird, yet wonderful. Another being growing inside of her, she for once felt legitimate fear. Yes, she faced enemies, and yes she was in charge of saving the world, but this was different. She was directly responsible for caring for something she loved so much, yet had never met.

“Oh, now you’re awake. And I’m sure you’ll be kicking me through the night.” Saffron rubbed her belly through the blanket. She pressed down slightly and felt it press back, as if to say ‘This is my space!’ She smiled “And already a fighter. Your father will be proud.”

She continued onto her letters, mostly from other Grey Wardens. She had great report with the Orlais and Free Marsh Wardens, having traveled there a few times. The Antiva Wardens got along with her well, mostly because she had a couple ex Crows in her ranks.

When Zevran approached her about recruiting his old friends, she had been hesitant, but trusted her husband’s judgment. He had told her having a few ex assassins around would make the keep more secure, and bring gifts that most Grey Wardens wouldn’t possess. True, they did prove vital, especially when sent out into the Deep Roads, but one did prove to be a bad apple when he tried to subdue the Commander and have his way with her. She managed to get away and have him locked up. Of course he didn’t stay alive long enough to make it to trial. He had managed to stab himself in the back multiple times and slit his own throat with Zevran’s daggers. How clumsy.

She also had letters from her old companions. Alistair wrote her frequently, updating her on life in the castle and his own travels. They discussed business, of course, but also enjoyed friendly banter. Wynne had written her a couple of times reminding her that the Wardens were always welcomed at the Ferelden Circle. Saffron always made it a point to visit Wynne when they were recruiting in the area.

Those notes were always kept in her bedside table, no matter how old. As much as she loved being the Warden-Commander, she missed the open road with her companions. Most of all she cherished the couple letters her husband had sent. Zevran had always made sure to keep his location a secret, and sent as little information as possible. In its stead he would write her poetry, lamentations of being without her, and of course the usual saucy teasing. It had provided her enough comfort for a while, but her patience was beginning to wear thin. Saffron hadn’t received a letter in months, and she was beginning to worry.

Until the return of her husband, Saffron had a wonderful companion sleeping at the end of her bed. She was a Mabari-Wolf hybrid, which had been born at the keep. Some how a wolf had found its way to the kennels, and mated with one of the Mabari bitches. Or she sought him out, no one was sure, but a few months later out came shaggy, well muscled puppies. Instead of drowning them, they were trained. Sure, it was a little harder to train these, seeing as they were part wild, but in the end they were given as gifts, leaving the smartest one to the Warden-Commander.

Saffron ended up naming her Bard, after a traveling Bard who fed her scraps. Her dog was curled up, sleeping soundly. Her shaggy black coat kept her warm on the coldest nights, and her sweet wet nose always willing to poke around for any scraps she could find on the floor. Had you seen her out and about, you would have thought she was a hound who only knew kisses and play. However in battle she became a ferocious war dog, tearing the throats out of her enemies.

Occasionally Bard would open her eyes, and twitch her ears at the sounds only she could hear out in the hallway. She’d yawn, and look at her master with tired eyes. Saffron would pull a foot out, and scratch Bard’s side with her big toe.

A small, cool spring breeze sifted through the room, and the papers on her lap crinkled a reply. Saffron looked at the closed window with a quirk in her brow and scanned the room. After finding nothing wrong she went back to her letters.

The wolfhound opened her eyes, and her tail began to wag slightly. The rhythmic beating on the bed made the Warden-Commander look up again from her work. “Something wrong, Bard?”

Saffron suddenly caught a whiff of a very sweet smell, something she had not smelled in a very long time. Memories flooded her mind of time spent in camp with her companions, and in the arms of her lover. Saffron could taste his tongue on hers, feel the memory of his hands on her naked back, fingers entwined in her hair.

She heard a rustle, and looked to her right, at the empty side of the bed: There sat a small bouquet made up of springs of dark purple leaves, the tops of them dotted in lilac flowers: Antivan Water Mint. A smile was brought to her face, and she looked ahead, placing the letters down again. “Oh I hope I’m in store for more fun, with my Qunari lover stopping by. I do hope he keeps me company again tonight.” She said aloud with a smirk.

Movement was seen to her right, but she kept her sight straight on.

“Lover? Where is he? I’ll fight him for your honor.” Came the voice of a very particular Antivan assassin.

She looked at the side of the bed with a smile on her face, and saw the amber eyes of her husband poking up. “Oh, well if it isn’t my long lost husband. And here I thought the Crows had taken him down. My lover will be most displeased.”

Zevran stood up and crossed his arm, a playful smirk on his face. Instead of his leathers he wore a white tunic, unlaced at the top and showing off a bit of his bare chest. He had black cotton pants on, with the Antivan leather boots she gave him so long ago. A red sash was tied across his waist, and the ends hung down to his knees. He had let his hair grow longer, which now had beads woven into the braid draped down his chest. Across his forehead he wore a bandana, most likely to keep his hair in place. He looked more a pirate than an assassin.

He pulled his daggers from off his back. “As I said, my dear Warden, I would fight him to the death for your honor! Zevran does not back down when it comes to fights, and love. Coincidentally, my two favorite things.”

Saffron began fingering the dark leaves of the mint. “Well then, I shall enjoy watching. May the best elf win.”

Zevran sat down on the side of the bed facing his lover. He put his hand gently on hers and smiled. “My mission was accomplished. The Crows responsible for the last attempt have been routed, along with a few many others. They shall not bother us again, lest they feel inclined to taste my blade.”

Her eyes narrowed in on his. “Good. I was beginning to worry, and I was near coming after you again. Promises be damned when you’re in danger.” As upset as she felt, she was happier feeling is rough, sun bathed hand on hers. She entwined her fingers in his.

“Tsk. You have such little faith in me.”

“Oh please, don’t forget last time. Don’t you remember seeing the arrow sprout from the assassin’s neck? You know, the one holding the dagger to your throat while two others held you down? Do you not remember that being mine?”

“Oh, that WAS a glorious moment! I still remember the blood splashing on my face. Good times.”

Her face saddened. “You’re impossible. Remember, I’m the one to die first.”

Zevran shook his head side-to-side, leaned forward on the bed and kissed the back of her hand. “We need not think of such things right now. Let us celebrate being in each others presence one more time.” He gave her hand another kiss, and another, trailing them up her arm as he slowly crept towards her. His eyes he kept on his wife, a hunger burning in them. He had kept to his promise of taking no one else to bed, and now he felt the incredible ache of wanting her under him.

Saffron felt herself getting turned on, the feeling of wetness between her legs. She shifted her hips and bit her lip. Zevran reached a hand under the blanket and gave one of her breasts a squeeze, taking her nipple between a thumb and finger. He began pinching lightly, making her gasp in pleasure. Now that she was with child, her breasts had become extra sensitive, a definite perk.

“Zevran, I have something you need to know.”

The assassin was now fully on the bed, and his lips were gently nibbling the soft flesh on her neck. He nipped here and there before kissing her lips deeply. His tongue slipped into her mouth, and she could taste the mint on his breath. Zevran gave another squeeze to her nipple, making her moan onto his mouth. Her hips jerked on their own accord, pleading him to get between her legs.

Saffron broke off the kiss and moved her head to the side. “Really, Zevran, we do need to talk.”

“Oh? Let our bodies do the talking for us…” He said in between kissed on her neck. He pulled the blanket down and looked at her perky breasts. He paused for a split second, taking in the beauty lying in front of him, before putting his mouth on the other nipple. He took it in between his teeth, biting down a little. This sent a shock through Saffron’s body, and her hands came up to his head, entwining her fingers in his hair.

“Ahh!” She let out a moan of pleasure and closed her eyes, enjoying the attention her lover was paying to her breasts. She felt his hand leave her chest, and slowly caress down the side of her ribs. “Zev, please…”

His hand hit her stomach, and he paused. What he expected was a flat stomach and her normal muscular abs. What he found in its stead was a hard rise in her belly.

He pulled away from her breasts and sat up. “Oh, what is this?” he asked himself. Pulling the blanket away slowly, he saw her bare stomach and the bump it had become.

The color drained from his face as his eyes became as big as quarters. His jaw dropped and for once he was without word.

Saffron smirked at her husband, thoroughly enjoying his expression. “What I was trying to say was, I am with child.”

More silence permeated the air. Zevran looked to her and closed his mouth, then looked back down to her belly. He reached down and put both his hands on her belly, rubbing softly. “It-It’s mine?” He asked stupidly.

Saffron gave a half amused, have indignant scoff. “Of course, Zevran. You’re going to be a father.”

He continued to run his hands over her belly, as if touching it would make the fact soak in faster. A small, gentle smile crossed his face. “I’m going to be a father.” He nearly whispered. It was as if he was in another realm now, consisting of just him and his impending fatherhood.

Saffron reached out and touched his cheek gently. Zevran closed his eyes and leaned into her hand. With the other she took one of his hands and pressed it in. “Here.”

The baby moved as if on cue, giving its biggest ‘This is my space!’ kick to Zevran’s hand. He closed his eyes harder at that, and a tear ran down his cheek. She saw him trying to keep his composure, but eventually he gave into the losing battle. Tears streamed down his face and he leaned down, touching his forehead to her belly. Saffron closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headboard. She placed a hand on the back of his head and ran her fingers through his long blonde hair.

He was silent, but she could feel his body jerk with every single sob. He kissed her belly, and sat up wiping the tears away from his face. Saffron opened her eyes and smiled at him. For a moment they sat looking at each other, the smiles on their faces saying ‘I love you.’ Finally Zevran leaned forward and kissed her deeply. She responded in kind, wrapping her arms around his body and sinking down until she was lying on the bed completely.

Zevran pulled the blankets back from her body, revealing her complete nakedness. He put himself in between her legs and gazed upon the beauty in front of him. That sweet smile which was on his face before was gone, the hunger back in his eyes. His hands traced the muscle on her inner thighs, all the way to her opening. Saffron reached forward and tugged at his shirt. “I’m naked and cold. You need to warm me up.”

He gave a small side smirk. “As you wish.” Zevran reached down and pulled his shirt off, revealing the bronzed skin and toned body underneath. Next the boots plopped down on the ground, and with it his pants and small cloths.

Clover pulled her husband onto her, and wrapped her legs around his body, willing him closer. Zevran hesitated, making sure not to crush their child between them. They kissed deeply; Saffron’s nails grazing down his back; he always liked a little pain with his pleasure.

He grabbed at her breast again, squeezing her nipple tightly again, and again she let out a gasp of pleasure. Her hips grinded into his cock, urging him to enter. His lips trailed down her neck, sucking and biting her flesh.

Saffron couldn’t take it, and reached down, lightly grabbing at the tip of his cock. Zevran gasped in surprise and looked into her eyes. “What? No foreplay?”

She squeezed lightly, and rubbed. “I have been waiting six flaming months for you. I began to think you wouldn’t return.” She said, sounding a little angrier than she wanted.

Zevran’s expression softened, and he smiled down at his wife. “I will always come back.” He leaned down and kissed her sweetly. With one hand he held the base of his cock, and guided it into her wet cunt. They both moaned lightly into the kiss, and Zevran began to slowly move in and out of her. He separated from the kiss and sat up on his knees, pulling her legs up and over his shoulders, holding onto them. From there he had the perfect view of her beautiful body, and the perfect angle for his cock to please her.

He began to pick up the pace, gliding in and out faster. Saffron closed her eyes and rolled her head back. She learned long ago from Zevran that it felt better to let herself become vocal instead of stifling her moans. One of her hands grabbed at her breasts and the other to the clit between her legs. Touching the sensitive parts of her just made her moan louder, and with every thrust she came closer to her climax.

Zevran wasn’t too far behind her. Months without any play made him incredibly sensitive. Once prized as a man who could go all night without cumming, he was now finding it difficult to hold back. He could feel her walls tightening in on him, and knew she was close to orgasm. Though the more she tightened, the closer he got. The assassin gritted his teeth and steeled himself, pounding harder and faster.

Their moans and the sound of wet skin hitting skin echoed off the walls of their room, and no doubt could be heard down the hall. Neither of them cared who heard, they were enjoying each other too much.

“Oh, fuck Zev, I’m going to cum.” Saffron moaned out. Zevran began giving her harder, fewer thrusts. This sent her over the edge, fueling the release she needed. Her walls of her orgasm began to contract against his cock, and he let out a breath, no longer holding back his own. Zevran moaned loudly as he sprayed his cum in her.

For a moment he sat there, watching her enjoy her own orgasm. Her back was arched, eyes closed, mouth open. Her hand was still between her legs, and the other gripping her breast hard. He always enjoyed watching her orgasm; it was such a dirty little pleasure knowing he made her feel that way. A smirk crossed his face as he reached over and cupped her other breast, thumbing her small, dark nipple.

Saffron brought both her legs down from his shoulders and opened her eyes, looking up at her lover. Zevran leaned forward and gave her a sweet, lingering kiss. He pulled out of her, his cock now limp but glistened with both of their juices. He planted one last kiss and then slid under the covers, pulling them up and over both of them.

Saffron smiled and laid her head on his chest, enjoying finally being in his arms once again. Zevran’s hand reached down and touched her belly, slowly rubbing it, smiling.

“So, what are we to name him? Zevran Junior I like.”

Saffron smile, “What makes you think it’s a boy?”

“Zevran is a supurb name for a girl also!”

“I think not!” The Warden-Commander said. “Nice try, but we are going to give it their own name.”

“Alas, you break my heart dear wife.”

She ran her nails over his chest lightly, “We will give her, or him, a good name. They first have to make an appearance.”

“Mmm,” Zevran groaned out. His eyes were closed, and after such a long voyage he found himself falling asleep; luckily Saffron was not far behind.


End file.
